


nobody warns you before the fall

by cataclysm_of_the_masses



Category: The Masked Singer (US TV)
Genre: Character Death, Death, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Gen, Horror, Horror AU, Lots of Murder, M/M, Multi, Murder, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Mushroom, Sacrifice, Self-Sacrifice, Spoilers, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28130319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cataclysm_of_the_masses/pseuds/cataclysm_of_the_masses
Summary: Those nights were on fire, we couldn't get higher, we didn't know that we had it all...
Relationships: Crocodile (The Masked Singer US)/Serpent (The Masked Singer US), Jellyfish (The Masked Singer US)/Seahorse (The Masked Singer US), Jellyfish (The Masked Singer US)/Seahorse (The Masked Singer US)/Sun (The Masked Singer US), Jellyfish (The Masked Singer US)/Sun (The Masked Singer US), Seahorse (The Masked Singer US)/Sun (The Masked Singer US)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 4





	nobody warns you before the fall

**Author's Note:**

> AKA: What does Cata's mind do when she's just watched the finale?

Crocodile just wants to go home, goddammit.

He watches Sun through narrowed eyes, suppressing the urge to laugh at the crying star, who's burning up the couch she's sitting on. She'd lost. Hah. Serves her right for wearing her heart on her sleeve. At least she hadn't had to kill her lovers herself.

If he closes his eyes, he can feel the blood pooling under his claw, ocean blue eyes thanking him silently as the light fades in them, black and tan scales pressing up against pink one last time. He doesn't close his eyes. He merely watches Sun, sliding his hands into his coat.

On the other end of the doorway stands Mushroom. The nonbinary mask crosses their arms, similarly deadpanning; their squirrel companion chirps happily as he chews on a nut on the fungus's shoulder. Croc wonders what they're thinking about. He'd heard from Jellyfish, when the Super Six were still super and six, about how Mushy and Broccoli had teamed up to form a mafia. How they'd gouged out three of Squiggly Monster's eyes before his performance, how he'd dragged himself on stage with blood dripping down his fur and begged for mercy. How, when they were forced into the Smackdown, Mushroom had nonchalantly pulled out a gun and shot their former ally no fewer than five times before walking away. This enby was capable of _anything,_ Jelly had said. Croc's inclined to believe it.

The trio hang in the silence, only broken occasionally with Sun's sobs. Crocodile's gaze flickers up to the screen showing them what was going on onstage. First Popcorn, then Jellyfish, and finally Seahorse. He doesn't remember when he's felt so desensitized to the onscreen suffering, _how_ he can feel this way as Poppy burns alive and pops until she drops, as Jelly screams with the electric current frying her tentacles until she collapses, as Sea's water is sucked out of her until she dries up to a brown crisp of her former self. Mushroom turns to leave - Croc supposes hanging around with the fungus would be more interesting than watching the supernova, so he cautiously follows, careful not to step on the enby's skirt. (Is it a skirt? He doesn't have the time to care.)

"So, uh..." The reptile laughs awkwardly, drumming his fingers on his thigh. "You ready to win..? We've got, uh, two weeks to prepare..."

The silence hangs sticky around them for a long moment before Mushy replies. "I wish Seahorse won."

"What?" Crocodile can't help but to be offended; he stops dead in the hallway, raising a hand to his heart and ignoring how arrhythmic it beats.

They turn around, their cap hanging just so over their eyes to make them gleam dangerously. "Seahorse would be so much easier to convince," they explain, raising a hand to pat the head of their squirrel, who leans into the touch. "You, though... You still want to win."

Croc pauses at that. "What?"

Mushy sighs. "You can't win this competition. There's no chance."

Was this smack talk or something? "What?"

The fungus rolls their eyes. "Do they speak English in _What?"_ Getting no response from the stunned pink man, they reach down to brush their skirt before continuing. "Crocodile... I don't know quite how to make you understand this. You _cannot win."_

"And why the hell not?" The words come off sharp; no decomposer's gonna be telling _him_ what to do. He steps in, closing the gap between them, and jabs a claw into Mushy's chest.

They blink at him, big brown eyes boring uncomfortably into Croc's soul. "I don't know about you," they begin. "I don't know what makes you tick, what you want in life, whether you signed up to have fun, or to do something new..."

Gremlin's corpse, blood pooling around it, Nick's pistol still in his hand. Crocodile swallows thickly. "I came - " Baby Alien's tiny little face, charred beyond recognition as they blew up his little spaceship like the Challenger. "I came to _win..."_ Whatchamacallit getting sucked up, hair by hair, into the giant vacuum. "I've got - " And there's Serpent again, Serpent who's smiling through his tears, Serpent who - goddammit, it's not _fair!_ "I've got kids at home, Mushroom." The words bubble up out of him before he can control them, her giggle stolen too soon and now his smile haunts Croc's dreams too. "I can't orphan my _kids..."_

A hand rests on his - he looks down at it mutely. "Jellyfish told me, you know. About how you'd had a nervous breakdown when she tapped you on the shoulder, how they'd figured out it was because of Serpent and what you'd had to do..."

"They knew?" It comes out with a crack in the middle. Crocodile doesn't apologize; he's heard enough of them already.

Mushroom nods quietly, even as they smile in pity. "Yeah. They knew."

Croc rocks back, automatically reaching up for his hat. "I - they were gonna hurt him more, he can't control his arms sometimes - "

They merely nod, letting him babble to a stop before finally continuing. "Do you _want_ to win?"

Does he? He signed up to win, didn't he? But there's something brewing in his brain, fuzzing up his vision like static on an old TV. He settles for a shrug. Whatever the enby was on about, it was important.

"What do you think happens if you win?"

"I... Go home?" Croc tries: it's a trick question by how it falls off Mushy's tongue.

They laugh. "You die anyway. We all do."

"That's incredibly nihilistic..."

The fungus closes their eyes, reaching up to tug their cap downwards. "...You don't get it." They inhale quietly as their squirrel slides down their skirt to romp about in the grass at the bottom. "If the Sun dies, we're all fucked. Even disregarding the fact that she basically powers the whole world, her death alone is going to literally tear the Earth apart. Those camera idiots are too stupid to realize that. What I'm trying to say is this - we have to lose if we want the world to keep existing."

Croc realizes then that he's given up on caring. Sure, blow this whole place up, not like he really gives a shit. When did he stop giving a shit? "...Okay?"

Before he knows it, he's being pulled into a hug. "Trust me," Mushy mumbles. "I've got a daughter of my own. I wanted to do this show for her, to prove to her that her Pari is the best parent a mushroom could ask for. I can't - I don't want to leave her, either. But..."

The reptile nods in understanding. "But if we die, they... Have a chance to live."

"You get it, Dilly." They smile sadly again, letting go. "Do you know what I mean now?"

Dilly? Odd, but whatever. He won't press it; he doesn't have the energy to. "You want us to throw the finale."

"Right." Mushroom leans back against the wall, watching just above Crocodile's head intently. He, too, looks up and spots his... friend's? companion nestling into the brim of his pink hat. "He likes you."

"That's good to know..."

"Yeah." The duo fall back into the silence, letting the gravity of what they had to do hit them square in the chest. They talk a little more, idle chat about their kids, about the weather, about what comes next, then realize there's nothing more to say and go their separate ways.

When Crocodile gets a tiny package in the mail, he knows what to do with it.

The Christmas song week is agony; they string up the corpses and make them twitch atop old recordings, and Croc blinks back tears, running his tongue along the asymmetrical extra tooth in his jaw, while Sun dry heaves into a metal bucket. Mushroom merely watches on, more intrigued than anything else. He makes sure to pull them over after the end of the episode and they verify that the plan's still in motion for the finale. They talk a lot over the phone that week, trading information, anecdotes, people who'd maybe care for their kids. God, the kids. He can't leave his little croclings like this, but it's so they survive...

Crocodile's head spins that day, from the moment he wakes up until he takes the stage one final time, belting out a half-hearted rendition of _Open Arms_ as he spins his cane around once or twice. He ignores how much he leans on it to walk, his knees so weak they can't keep his weight up. Two more performances he can't remember, then they're all called back up to the stage.

He's third. He knows he's third. He wasn't even trying.

Croc smiles sadly, stepping forward. There's a strange sense of euphoria in him, though, and he can't quite place it. Nick talks for a minute about the horrendous torture they'd devised, but he doesn't hear a word.

He bites down hard, just as Mushroom told him to. Almonds flood his tongue; then, his vision fades to black as he feels himself give up, give in to the call from the other side. Already, he's enveloped in a firm hug, six extra arms thumping rhythmically on his back.

Crocodile's going home after all.

**Author's Note:**

> It's your 100 follower special <3 hope you enjoyed!


End file.
